


The Journey Itself

by Raven_Knight



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Based on Fanvid, Leonard Nimoy - 2016 Memorial, M/M, Multiple Pov, One-Year Anniversary, old married spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Knight/pseuds/Raven_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His instinct told him to go, and once he made that choice, nothing could stop him from changing his mind. One man embarks on a journey home. </p><p>Written in memory of Mr. Leonard Nimoy, our Honorary Grandfather, on the first anniversary of his passing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Journey Itself

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[vid] I Drove All Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144288) by [TLara (larissabernstein)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larissabernstein/pseuds/TLara). 



> This fic is based off of T’Lara’s amazing fanvid, “I Drove All Night,” which debuted at the 2015 KiSCon. (Go check it out!) From that moment, this fic was forming in my mind, and I knew on what day I would post this: The One-Year Anniversary of the day we all lost our Honorary Grandfather, Leonard Nimoy. Thank you, T’Lara for making this vid! It follows it closely for the majority of this story.
> 
> Special thanks to Plaidshirtjimkirk for beta-reading this as I wrote it. Your support is invaluable and my gratitude is immeasurable. Lastly, this story is lovingly dedicated to Mr. Leonard Nimoy, our Honorary Grandfather. Thank you, Grandpa, for everything you shared with us and for touching our lives with your love and your work. ~ RK

In the moment that he decided to go, the notion of turning back no longer existed.

Selling the car would bring a little more money to the family, but with his brother’s departure, his family was falling apart. It started with his father, and then his mother went off-planet, and now his brother had left him. And his mother didn’t even know. The keys fell into his lap like a sign. “Go,” his instinct told him. Jim Kirk turned the key in the ignition and he went, driving that antique corvette straight off the edge of the earth and into the quarry below. He knew that because he’d listened to his instinct, his mother would come home. And no matter what happened because he destroyed that car, warning her of Sam’s leaving would be worth it.

They’d cleared the spacedock doors. They’d made it this far. All that was left was to get to Genesis, the forbidden place, and taboo subject of discussion. “Go,” he urged Sulu in his mind. “Go!” The damage had been done as far as regulations were concerned. They’d stolen Federation property by stealing the _Enterprise_ from dock. There was no turning back now. He had to recover Spock’s body. He had to bring it and McCoy to Mount Seleya on Vulcan. Only if he succeeded would all of this be worth it.

“Go!” his head told him as he watched Captain Pike leave the bar finally. He picked up the salt shaker, molded into the shape of a spaceship, and thought about Pike’s dare. Did he think Jim couldn’t do it? Anger filled him. “Go!” he thought. “Prove him wrong.” Jim got up from the bar, jumped onto his bike, and drove away, but in the opposite direction from his normal route. He drove towards the Riverside Shipyard, a place he’d avoided as much as possible because it reminded him of the broken family that should have been whole. But what did he have left here? Nothing. There was nothing left for him to do but to go.

They were being pursued. He expected nothing else. No one stole a ship and did not get followed for it.

He stared at the ship under construction, watching everyone walking along this bright and new hull with the determination to work together to get her finished. He had nothing here left in Riverside. No family, no commitments, nothing. Perhaps Pike knew what he was doing than Jim gave him credit for when he issued that dare in the bar. He swallowed. He had nothing left here, and nothing to lose if he left. Yet he had everything to gain by doing exactly that. “Go!” he told himself. He inhaled deeply through his nose. He made his decision. He’d be on that transport in the morning, even if he had to sneak himself aboard it. He had to do this because he’d already lost everything.

He had to get to Genesis. And when he’d been refused when he asked permission, he decided to listen to his instinct, to his gut. “The word is no. I am therefore going anyway,” he’d told Sulu. If they wouldn’t permit him to take a ship, he would steal his own vessel to do it, and risk losing his career for it. He’d already lost everything that made him feel alive when he watched helplessly from the other side of the transparent aluminum as Spock’s life left him. He had nothing left to lose by doing this, and possibly everything to gain. A career was worth it, but stagnation because he chose that moment to obey the chain of command was unthinkable. “It looks like you’ve found a way,” Will Decker had told him once. He was James T. Kirk. He always found a way to accomplish the impossible.

“If you do this, you’ll never sit in the Captain’s Chair again,” Captain Styles promised him through the comms channel. He’d heard a similar sentiment before he’d accepted the rank of Admiral, yet when the V’ger crisis occurred, he’d usurped Decker and taken the captaincy and that chair once more. Kirk lowered himself in the center seat that had been his for decades with a remarkably empty and calm mind. It may have been his final command of this vessel, albeit illegally, but he had hellbent on making the most of it while he gave the orders on this desperate mission. As Will said he would, Kirk had found a way. He’d done it once. Kirk would find a way to captain a ship again. He had nothing to lose now. It was time to go. “Warp speed,” he ordered.

He’d left Earth far behind him.

The shuttle arrived on time. He stared out of the viewport anxiously, like a young man arriving to his first date. The hatch opened and he strode out into the foot traffic of the busy spaceport, searching for the one person he most wanted to see. There were countless people there. Too many. He’d never find him in this throng.

He recalled the sensation distinctly, the feeling that someone far away searched for him. That someone needed him. He’d felt it while attempting completion of Kolinahr. Then he had felt his _T’hy’la_ from across the lightyears, and he knew that he would not complete his task on Vulcan. He had to leave. Spock was needed elsewhere.

Kirk looked around, his eyes darting in every direction, searching for dark hair, a tall figure, and a stride that broadcast its bearer’s dignity. He searched for a familiar half-Vulcan. There were Vulcans here, yes, but not the one he desperately wanted to see.

He’d looked all day and had not succeeded. He couldn’t remember how he arrived at the house, but he had somehow. Kirk’s thoughts must have been elsewhere. He would try again tomorrow. He could just imagine Spock when he found him, how he would look, regal as ever standing before him. Spock would be puzzled yet impressed that Kirk managed to find him again, but in his own way he would be pleased to see him. The thought made Kirk smile and look to his left. He imagined Spock so clearly that he could almost see him there. But when he reached for him, the Vulcan vanished. It only renewed Kirk’s determination. “Go,” his instinct told him, “Keep searching.”

He knew what he had to do, but he didn’t think anyone would appreciate his plan. Especially not Spock, who seemed to disapprove of everything he did. Jim had heard the things unsaid, read Spock’s thoughts in his eyes, and knew that something else was going on in that clever, brilliant Vulcan mind. He just didn’t know what exactly that could be. What Jim did know was that he had to find out. And for that to happen, he needed to leave Earth, whether his recovery was complete or not. Bones would forgive him, he knew. Starfleet may not, but Bones would understand. His friend only worried that he wasn’t physically or emotionally recovered from his more-than-brush with death. Jim wondered if in actuality it was Bones who hadn’t recovered. But he didn’t have time to worry about that. Something was going on with Spock, and he didn’t know what. Jim made his decision. He had to go.

He decided to try again at the spaceport. Perhaps today it wouldn’t be so crowded.

Spock had been his captain’s emotional security in times of upheaval and uncertainty.

The level at which they worked together surprised Jim, despite being on opposite sides of a tribunal hearing during the last twenty-four hours. Fleetingly, he wondered how this rigid, cold robot could possibly be the same person as the gentle, warm Vulcan he’d met on Delta Vega.

Kirk had always been able to bring Spock’s analytical mind back to the present, to the crisis at hand. Sometimes he did it with words, sometimes with a touch, and even sometimes with both.

He would do everything in his power to keep Kirk safe.

The only time he had failed to do that was during his blood fever, when he slipped into the plak-tow on his homeworld, after T’Pring had rejected him, had challenged their union and chose her champion to fight for her. In a cruel betrayal, she had chosen Spock’s captain, and her choice devastated Spock. He could not fight his captain, his friend, to the death. He could not. How dare she force them both to do this distasteful thing?

How dare Spock force him to do this distasteful thing? To emotionally compromise his Spock, this younger Spock? He did it, yes, and found himself pinned to a console, Spock’s hand choking the life from him. Jim did not expect this to happen, did not think it would lead to this. He didn’t think Spock would kill him because of this. He’d underestimated the intensity of Spock’s grief.

The other Spock hadn’t killed his Kirk even as he was out of his mind during a fight in the red desert sands. And that Kirk fought him back just as hard. They were fighting for their own lives then, because something compelled them to. Something neither of them wanted to obey. That Spock had wound a corded weapon around his Kirk’s throat and tightened, hard. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Spock’s face, staring down coldly at him.

In the same way that his Spock stared down at him as Jim felt consciousness leave him as he struggled for breath. He regretted his words, he regretted that exposing Spock’s pain was necessary. But he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t tell him. Spock wanted to kill him.

Spock hadn’t wanted to kill Kirk. He fought against himself to avoid killing Kirk. Yet he did.

Yet he didn’t.

Spock finally reached his destination, the bridge. He heard a gasp and looked to see a long-familiar person. Lieutenant Uhura. She had been promoted, it seemed. Lieutenant-Commander Uhura. He took that information in quickly. He had no time to prepare himself when Kirk turned in his chair and saw him standing there. “Spock!” The way he said his name affected Spock more than he allowed himself to reveal. He chose to reveal nothing, to react to nothing. Now, and illogically, he wished he had acknowledged them differently. For seeing them again after so long left him overwhelmed, just as seeing a very young Jim, much younger than he had ever known him, had overwhelmed him. Seeing him there, gasping on the frozen ground of Delta Vega, had filled Spock with a warmth he never thought he could feel again, and a longing he could never fulfill.

Kirk chose a shuttlecraft this time. Perhaps Spock wasn’t even in a spaceport. Maybe he was back on the ship, going on another training mission as the commander of the vessel. Their old vessel. He smoothed his uniform as he stepped hesitantly toward the open doorway. Then, Spock stepped out and stood before him. Kirk wanted to smile, but then something sprang to mind. How could he be on _this Enterprise_? It had been destroyed. He’d given the order with Chekov and Scotty at his side. “How am I here?” he asked.

“Because you wish to be here,” replied Spock, his voice flat and absent of all emotion.

Kirk narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t Spock,” he stated. “This can’t be real.”

The ship’s walls melted away around him, and Spock hung his head in failure. A moment later, Kirk lost consciousness.

He recalled a particularly bizarre shore leave in which a slightly intoxicated Kirk had swaggered into their shared room on the starbase, a wolfish smile on his lips. “Spock,” he said, his voice distinctly lower than normal. He recognized the expression, the confident posture, and the seductive voice. This had to be a mistake. He would never approach him like this. Kirk directed attention like this solely on others with whom he engaged amorously if not briefly. Never with him. “Spock,” Kirk repeated. “Come with me.”

Spock shook his head. “No.”

Kirk seemed to sober instantly. “Why?”

“You are not yourself at this time.”

Kirk looked down at the floor for a moment, and licked his lips before meeting Spock’s gaze again. “I had a few drinks to get my courage up, Spock. But believe me, I’ve wanted to ask you.”

Spock took a step closer to Kirk. “I will not answer until your judgment is not impaired due to intoxication.”

Kirk smiled up at him. “Then, help me find some water to work this out of me.”

Spock fought his own smile. “At once, Captain.”

Spock woke up the next morning on the starbase enfolded in his captain’s arms, both of them still dressed. The experience made Spock aware of an unexpected reality. Being situated together like that had felt right. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“You have not been cleared for space travel, Captain,” Spock protested.

Jim rolled his eyes. “I have to go, Spock. I can’t even explain why.” He tried to beg his first officer to understand with his eyes. “Please. Trust me. I have to go.”

Spock clenched his jaw. Jim sighed. Clearly, Spock did not understand. But his decision was made. Jim would leave Earth because this was that important.

“Mister Spock, you’re a stubborn man,” Kirk said to him long ago.

“Yes, Sir,” he’d agreed. It had made his captain laugh.

The communications light blinked at him, requesting his acknowledgment. “Computer, identify caller.”

“James T. Kirk, Captain,” it supplied mechanically. Spock stared at his calculations on the terminal before him. His decision was made. He would not abandon his research. He did not know how much time he had left. “Computer,” he said, his voice oddly tight. “Reject call.”

The light stopped blinking.

Many decades ago, he’d heard something call to him as he knelt in meditation on the Vulcan sands, just before he met with the Kolinahr priestess. It had called to him, and he had answered. At first, he thought it had been the immense consciousness that had posed a threat to Earth. It was only when he stepped onto the bridge of the _Enterprise_ and saw Kirk that he knew precisely what had called him away from Vulcan. Kirk had called him, and he had answered.

When he had been in command of the away team to investigate the Murasaki 312 quasar, the situation had turned desperate. The likelihood they would return to the _Enterprise_ was severely against them. “An act of desperation,” Kirk had called Spock’s actions on the shuttlecraft after they’d managed to barely achieve orbit following their crash and subsequent repairs. “A calculated risk,” is what Spock preferred to call it. Doctor McCoy would undoubtedly simplify it as, “A crazy gamble.” Whatever anyone decided to call it, the simple fact remained this: Spock had called Kirk, and Kirk had answered.

Now, when a different James T. Kirk called him, Spock had to refuse. Spock did not answer him this time.

He’d been in the lower decks when it’d happened. It was dimly lit one moment, and then suddenly the area had exploded in blinding light. He closed his eyes against it, hearing only the sound of destroyed metal, screams of others, and the strange sensation of being pulled from the wreckage. When he’d opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the grass of an unknown planet, with no idea how he’d gotten there, and no sign of anything that had just happened to him.

With the exception of feeling completely alone.

Spock had collapsed unconscious to the floor in San Francisco without warning to the shock of all those around him. When he opened his eyes he was lying on a biobed, the rhythmic beeping for company. He breathed quietly in his bed, and wondered why he wasn’t being monitored more closely. “Mister Spock?” a familiar voice called him from the doorway of his room. He turned to look and recognized Pavel Chekov. “I hev—” he choked on his own voice. “—news,” he managed.

As the first of Chekov’s tears fell, Spock abruptly understood why he felt nothing in his mind. His bondmate was not coming home to him. For the first time in many years, Spock did not try to stop himself from weeping.

He’d told Bones that he felt young only an hour ago. Now, he wasn’t sure that were true. He didn’t mean young in the sense that he’d been given another chance at life. Spock’s death made him aware of how little time they’d actually had together. He’d been helpless to save him, helpless to stop the radiation from killing him painfully, helpless to comfort him when Spock needed him the most. He couldn’t even speak then. Spock had been the one to reassure him. “Don’t grieve, Admiral. It is logical.” Kirk picked up his empty bourbon glass and hurled it across the room, barely hearing it shatter, as he crumbled to the floor. There was nothing logical about being left behind like this. Kirk felt young because now he felt lost, like an unanchored ship adrift at sea, and no lighthouse to guide him home.

Jim knew the loss of Vulcan had been devastating to Spock, who at the time, had been acting captain in Pike’s absence. But he didn’t know just _how_ devastated he was until an older version of Spock showed him by sharing their minds. “Because of me, Jim, because I failed.” And Jim became devastated with him. He shared in this older Spock’s grief, and it nearly caused his legs to give out on him.

He’d been quiet on the bridge ever since, his eyes lingering to Spock’s empty chair without meaning to look. “The death of Spock is like an open wound,” he’d said into his log. But truly there were no words that could describe how he felt, what he was going through. He went to the chair and rested his hand on it, regretting the action almost instantly. The chair was cold because no one, Spock, had occupied it recently. It did not linger with the warmth of life having been there. There was nothing left but cold lifelessness.

Spock could not bear to watch anymore. He’d seen Vulcan collapsing and knew that billions had perished and that their loss had no other cause but his existence in this universe. Grief and guilt overwhelmed him. He risked opening his eyes again, but Vulcan no longer existed. It was gone. Disappeared. With remarkable calm, Spock turned away from the destruction, the devastation he had caused, the lives he had been responsible for extinguishing. In the distance he saw an outpost, the Federation banner flying above it. Yet he did not believe he deserved their assistance. He deserved nothing. He had nothing. Spock found a cave shortly afterwards and decided that it would do. Here would be his final resting place. Unnoticed and buried in a cave on this frozen, desolate planet. It was fitting he disappear unknown like this. No one knew him here in this universe. No one would mourn him.

But then a terrified, and desperate Jim Kirk had run into his intended gravesite and changed everything.

He knew he didn’t have long. He tried to speak, but his voice no longer obeyed him. So, he had no choice but to act instead. Jim struggled to raise his hand and press it to the glass, in the same way he’d seen the older version of his first officer do in a different universe. _That damn mindmeld turned out to be good for something_ , Jim thought. _At least I can kind of talk to him and say goodbye in a way he’ll understand._ He could still see and for that he was grateful. He saw the moment his action registered with Spock. He saw his first officer, his friend, someone he cared for, mirror his gesture and place his hand against Jim’s, even though they were still separated. He knew the moment that Spock understood. And that, even though his body was in agony, and he could feel his death approaching, made Jim smile one last time.

Kirk couldn’t understand the problem and it frustrated him. He’d found a version of Spock, at least he thought he had, but he hadn’t been real. For some reason, Spock was like a phantom he couldn’t quite touch, an illusion that he wanted desperately to be real. Spock consumed his thoughts lately, especially at night just before he went to sleep. He remembered the idea of falling asleep with Spock in his arms, but he could no longer recall the physical sensation. Was his memory failing him? Had they ever been together? In the nights like this one, these questions were the most disturbing for him. He almost didn’t know where the line existed anymore separating fantasy and reality.

In that cave, when he realized the identity of the young man before him, joy – overwhelming joy in the face of complete despair, not unlike the emotion he felt when he realized that he had not murdered his captain on the sands of Vulcan during his pon farr – swelled in his mind and body to such a degree that he questioned whether or not he’d already perished and saw that which he most desired. “James T. Kirk.” Yet this Kirk looked far too young to be his friend. Somehow, Spock did not care. Kirk had found him somehow. He did not expect ever to see him again, in any form or age.

They spoke briefly and this young Jim had asked many questions and Spock asked some of his own. There was hope yet in this universe if James Kirk existed in it. “We’re not friends, at all, you hate me!” Spock’s hopes shattered. He did not wish to know of a timeline in which any Spock hated a Jim Kirk. Here stood the younger form of his lost bondmate, so close to him. Longing - desperate longing - filled Spock’s body, and it chilled him more than the ice of this planet. He reached for Jim, wishing to reassure himself that this conversation was not some horrible nightmare, some twisted fantasy gone wrong. He reached out to give Jim the answers he sought as quickly as possible.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Spock jolted back to the moment. Of course, this Kirk had never had occasion to meld with a Vulcan. He did not know what it entailed. It only emphasized to Spock that this young man before him was not the Jim Kirk he’d lost decades ago. He had never engaged in multiples mental joinings with this Kirk, not like his timeline’s Kirk, not like his bondmate. This Jim did not trust him in the way that his captain had.

Because the only Vulcan this young Kirk had met apparently hated him.

Somehow, Jim managed to persuade Fleet to approve a brief training cruise with the refitted _Enterprise_ to New Vulcan to deliver supplies to the colony.

He lied.

He’d been in his quarters when he’d asked Uhura to establish personal communications between his terminal and a certain Vulcan. Within moments, the connection blinked green. “Captain Kirk, for what reason have you contacted me?”

Jim licked his lips, uncertain even now how he should phrase it. “Ambassador Sarek, thank you for accepting my call.” Sarek acknowledged it with a nod. “I’ve recently tried to contact Sp-Selek on the colony, but I can’t quite reach him.” He noticed Sarek’s posture stiffen, but he already had continued by that time. “Either he’s rejecting my contact, or he’s unable to respond. I wanted to know if you’ve spoken to him recently.”

Sarek held his gaze for a long time before he finally nodded. “The Elder _Spock_ ,” he stressed, telling Jim he knew perfectly well the identity of this mysterious and eccentric Vulcan, “has not seen anyone save for myself during the last twelve months.”

It had been a year since Jim had gone into the warp core. It had been a year since Spock had called his older self for advice. But it had only been four months since Jim had tried to contact him. In all that time, had no one told him that he’d recovered? Had this Elder Spock believed for all this time that Jim had died? “Why has he only seen you, Ambassador?”

“I am his father,” he stated. Perhaps to Sarek, that answer was an obvious one. He took a deep breath as if to prepare himself. “Though I am concerned for his well-being.”

That caught Jim’s attention. “How so?”

“He has been consumed with locating and studying certain astrophysical phenomenon.”

A blinding light flashed in Jim’s mind for an instant. “What kind of phenomenon?” he asked, but he made it sound like an order.

Spock did not feel relief as he expected he would upon concluding his research. The lack of it surprised him. But he did not have the time to dwell on this now. He picked up his small travel bag of the clothing and other items he’d acquired in his time here. At the door, he turned back one last time to survey his humble and sparse living space. He looked at the item he’d left behind, placed deliberately in a location that would surely be easily found. It had been a difficult choice, but if he succeeded, he would not need this item again. And if he failed, he would still have his perfectly preserved memories. They have served him well for over fifty years. They would have to continue to do so should he fail. He did not believe he would, however. He stepped out of his temporary home and the door closed and locked behind him as it always had. Spock had to leave. It felt right.

“Spock!” Jim screamed into the voice pickup of his helmet. “Spock, don’t do this!” He now questioned the sense of flying after Spock in only this propulsion suit.

_As soon as they’d arrived at New Vulcan, Uhura had informed him that a theft had occurred from the spaceport. “Captain, I’m getting chatter that someone has stolen a one-man vessel.”_

_“What?”_

_“He’s refusing to acknowledge signal.” She adjusted a frequency. “The identity is confirmed as a Vulcan.”_

_Jim sprang from his chair. “Has he cleared Vulcan space yet?”_

_But his first officer answered. “I have identified the rogue vessel ahead, Captain.”_

_Jim whirled towards helm and navigation. “Set course to follow that ship now!”_

_“Captain, this is not our responsibility,” Spock said, alarmed. “We are here to deliver supplies to this colony not regulate their people.”_

_He spun to face Spock. “_ This _ship is my responsibility, Spock! Trust me!” He turned back to Sulu. “Follow that ship. That’s an order!”_

_“Aye, Sir.”_

_Jim headed towards the turbolift. “Uhura, try to establish contact. Don’t stop trying no matter what.”_

_“Yes, Sir,” she acknowledged, then turned to work._

_“Spock, you have command here.”_

_A hand grabbed his bicep and stopped his progress to the turbolift._

Why was Spock flying directly toward that? It looked like suicide. “Spock!” Jim cried again. “Come back with me!”

Uhura’s voice chimed in on his headset. “He won’t acknowledge my signal, Captain.”

Jim grimaced, blinking away his tears furiously so he could see and direct his flight. “Don’t stop trying!” he shouted. “Do you understand me? Don’t you dare stop trying!”

“Aye, Jim,” she whispered, a note of futility in her voice.

“Spock,” Jim moaned, Uhura’s hopelessness seeping to him through the comms channel. “Please talk to me.”

“I am here, Captain.”

Jim sighed in frustration, firing a booster to steer him a little bit starboard. “Not you, Spock. The other Spock.” He swallowed hard. “Spock!” he called. “Answer me!”

“He may not wish to speak to you, Cap-Jim.”

“I won’t let him do this,” he said. “He can’t do this!”

There was a second of static and then a rougher tone spoke in his headset. “I must pursue this, Jim.”

“Spock!” He watched as the tiny ship ahead of him continued on course toward the light ahead. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, Jim, I do.”

Jim fired both of the boosters together, closing the gap just that much more between them. “I’m coming for you, Spock. Don’t go towards that thing!”

Spock’s voice sounded incredibly peaceful in his ear. “I have nothing to fear from it. I do not take these actions to hurt you. That has never been my intention.”

Jim knew that coming out there had been useless in that instant. He would never be able to catch up to Spock’s little ship. Even if he did, he would likely never convince the Vulcan to abandon his mission, whatever that meant to Spock. “Spock,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Jim,” Spock said his name reverently. “I ask forgiveness. Live long and prosper.”

Jim knew what Spock truly meant. Goodbye. “No,” he sobbed.

“Commander Spock,” the elder Vulcan summoned.

“Yes, Elder,” Spock answered.

“Please transport the captain back aboard your ship. It is dangerous for him where he is.”

Jim could say nothing more except one word. “No.”

“Of course, Mister Spock,” his first officer replied. “Peace and long life.” Jim heard the static crackle in his headset for a moment, and knew that the older Spock had cut their connection. “Mister Scott, bring the Captain home,” Spock ordered.

Just as he began to dematerialize, Jim saw something he did not expect. He saw Spock’s tiny ship simply disappear in the bright light of energy. He had expected it to be torn apart, but it simply vanished. As he arrived on the transporter pad, Jim didn’t know how he felt. Confused, saddened, shocked, abandoned. Then, Spock came through the doors of the transporter room to welcome him back and Jim found a weak smile for him through his tears.

He wished he could have spoken more openly with the Admiral. Perhaps things would not have been so emotionally charged as they had been if they had spoken with each other more openly before that training mission.

“Captain, are you well?” Spock asked, after the transporter team assisted Jim in getting out of that propulsion suit.

Jim still couldn’t give Spock a truly happy smile, but he tried anyway. “No,” he admitted. “But, I’m glad you’re here.” He smacked Spock playfully on the arm in an attempt to lessen the gloominess suffocating them. He made eye contact and then fled the transporter room.

Spock turned to Kirk, and Kirk looked at him. They were in sync again. This was how they were meant to function. It only took time travel to the past and navigating through the unknown together again to accomplish it. Spock could not complain for those circumstances. As punishment for his actions to get him to Vulcan from the Genesis Planet, they had demoted Kirk from Admiral to Captain. The smile did not stretch Kirk’s lips, but it shone in his eyes. This demotion did not punish him at all. It pleased him. In turn, it also pleased Spock.

He barely remembered the flight to Vulcan in their stolen Klingon vessel. He barely recalled landing. What he did remember was the sight of Spock’s body lying on the ground on Genesis. He’d come too far to fail now. He’d destroyed his ship to prevent occupation and capture by these Klingons, the ones responsible for David’s death. He would be damned if he would lose Spock again to these creatures. They’d taken his ship, his son, from him. They would not have Spock, too. After he’d finally pushed the Klingon Commander to his death, Kirk went to Spock’s body, still amazed that he drew breath. He had no katra, because of his mindmeld with McCoy, yet he still breathed. Kirk took him into his arms and refused to let him go.

He did not sleep while the Priestess worked on the Refusion process. He could not sleep. He owed both Spock and McCoy that. Kirk did not dare hope too much that everything would be as it was for Spock or for Bones. He did allow himself to hope that Spock would live, that the Refusion concluded successfully, that he would hear his voice again.

Yet when Spock walked past him, Kirk felt even that hope dwindle. Did Spock no longer know him? Did Kirk only get back the shell of his husband? Would he know him?

“Jim. Your name is Jim.”

Joy flooded Kirk’s soul and he could not contain it if he tried. “Yes.”

Months had passed as Spock’s mind underwent retraining in the Vulcan way. He stayed away so that he did not interfere with the process. He would see Spock from a distance, watching them, this small band of illogical rebels who defied Starfleet and did quite a number of questionable deeds all for Spock. He didn’t even know if Spock would truly understand what they’d done. After everything, Kirk decided that it didn’t exactly matter as long as Spock was healthy and whole again. Spock had been returned to him. It would have to be enough.

When Spock had sat in the chair of the small vessel containing the red matter that destroyed his home, he did not quite make the connection that a Vulcan had been responsible in part for the loss of the planet. He had been distracted that the ship had recognized his biological signature specifically, and addressed him as Ambassador Spock. He held the rank of Commander. Ambassador was his father’s salutation. Only one explanation existed. There was another Spock and he did answer to Ambassador. He only regretted that he would not solve this puzzle, as he did not intend to return to the _Enterprise_.

Yet, when the transporter energy plucked him from that ship on its collision course and deposited him on the pad beside a grinning Cadet Kirk and wounded Captain Pike, Spock admitted to feeling relieved he had not perished in that moment.

Kirk hadn’t expected to be beamed aboard this Klingon vessel and escorted directly to their bridge. Not only that, but General Korrd forced his junior officer to apologize to him. It had been among the last things he ever expected from a Klingon. Then, Kirk had met another surprise in the form of the Klingon vessel’s new gunner. The chair had spun and seated there was someone he had never expected. “Spock!” Emotion did not typically overcome him to the point where he no longer cared for his actions. Not even when Spock, lying in Sickbay, finally admitted to feeling emotions, deep affectionate emotions, for Kirk during the V’ger mission.

He realized that Spock had often expressed his affection in his actions, almost always abundantly with Kirk as the recipient of those actions. He would never let Kirk fall, or allow harm to come to him, if it were in his power. Spock had opened his arms to Kirk, literally and figuratively, and Kirk – though it took them years to reach that point – had willingly stepped into them. Kirk marveled at how far they’d come since Spock’s first pon farr.

But it seemed that somehow nothing he tried brought Spock back to him now. Determining that he needed to escape for a while, Kirk got dressed and walked straight to the barn. Perhaps a ride would cheer him up. The dawn promised a good day by the look of it.

Spock had closed his eyes as the light became too bright, too much to physically stand. He risked opening his eyes again after only three point eight seven seconds, and found himself flying in within the atmosphere of a Class-M planet on a bright, sunny day. Nature spread everywhere as far as he could see even from his height. It looked positively peaceful. Something moving in the distance to his left caught his gaze. He turned enough to focus on it. What he saw caused his breath to leave him, and his hands to shake.

Kirk spurred the horse on down the well-ridden path. The wind from the ride refreshed him and took his mind from his troubles for a time. Like this he felt free. He felt young. That thought brought him up short and he abruptly halted his mount.

He felt young. The last time he’d thought that had been when Spock died in the warp core. His mouth opened as he sobbed with the realization. Spock had died. Was that why he couldn’t find him? _No,_ he told himself. _We went to Genesis. We brought him back to Vulcan. They brought him back. We went home to Earth. And then I—_ He sobbed once more. _Then I went aboard the newly christened Enterprise for publicity. They were attacked. I went to save the ship. There was an explosion._

_Did I die?_

A light flashed above him and it drew him out of his musings.

Jim had sedately ordered them to return to New Vulcan before locking himself in his quarters, refusing to see anyone until they arrived. As soon as he received confirmation, he went directly to the transporter room. “Scotty, beam me down.”

“Belay that order, Lieutenant-Commander Scott.”

Jim turned towards Spock. “I’m going down there, _Commander_ , whether you want me to or not.”

Spock looked wounded. “I only countermanded your order because I wish to accompany you. My counterpart once advised me that in the wake of incalculable devastation, that I did not need to face it alone.”

The fight immediately left him and he understood what Spock tried to say. “Oh.” Jim gestured to the transporter pad. “You ready now?”

Wordlessly, Spock stepped onto the pad. Jim followed him a moment later.

After they arrived, Jim led them on foot to a modest building in the colony. Its architecture was simple yet tasteful, and no personal decoration indicated who lived within it. Jim input a series of numbers expertly. The door unlocked with a high beep and he stepped inside. Spock followed him silently.

Jim stood four feet inside the house and looked around. He took several steps into the joined kitchen and dining room and abruptly came to a stop. Placed there on the table, precisely where Jim had once sat when Spock had hosted him during his only visit, was a delicately forged object attached to a fine chain. Clearly, it had been left here for Jim to find. Spock knew he would come here. Somehow he knew. Jim closed his hand over the back of the chair to steady himself as tears filled his eyes. He knew what this was. It was a holo-emitter. With his hand shaking, Jim activated it. Behind him, he heard Spock gasp.

The image of an older man emerged from the holo-emitter, older but radiating life. A self-conscious smile made him seem playful as he began to sing, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—” The singing stopped suddenly and the man grinned mischievously. “I know I know, it’s illogical to celebrate something you had nothing to do with, but I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your appointment to the ambassadorship so I thought I’d seize the occasion.” Jim stared as he finally realized that the man he watched was a reflection of himself. An older version of himself. He stepped around the back of the chair and lowered himself into it, his vision blurred by his tears, but his focus completely engaged on this other James T. Kirk. “Bravo, Spock – they tell me your first mission may take you away for awhile, so I’ll be the first to wish you luck…and to say—” He paused, the silence heavy with emotion. “I miss you, old friend.” Jim did not try to stop from weeping. “I suppose I’d always imagined us…outgrowing Starfleet together. Watching life swing us into our Emeritus years. I look around at the new cadets now and can’t help thinking…has it really been so long? Wasn’t it only yesterday we stepped onto the Enterprise as boys? That I had to prove to the crew I deserved command…and their respect?”

Jim wiped away his tears so he could better see this Kirk. He felt a hand land on his shoulder gently. Spock. Somehow, it comforted him knowing that Spock sensed he would need him here in this moment at his side. “I know what you’d say,” continued the holo-image. “’It’s their turn now, Jim.’ And of course you’re right…but it got me thinking: Who’s to say we can’t go one more round? By the last tally, only twenty-five percent of the galaxy’s been chartered…I’d call that negligent. Criminal even – an invitation. You once said being a starship captain was my first, best destiny…if that’s true, then yours is to be by my side. If there’s any true logic to the universe…we’ll end up on that bridge again someday.”

Jim couldn’t watch any more. His strength had left him. He folded his arms on the table and sobbed into them. Only his counterpart’s voice reached him despite that. “Admit it, Spock. For people like us, the journey itself…is home.”

He understood now. He knew why Spock had left. But it did not prevent him from grieving for his departure from this universe.

Kirk watched as the strange one-man craft sailed over his head. His house was in that direction. With a kick, he urged his horse after the ship. The craft disappeared behind the trees and his house. He didn’t know what to think of this. With an energy he hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity, he swung his leg over and dismounted. Kirk noticed his front door had been opened and it stood ajar. He hurried down the stairs and stepped over the threshold.

“Jim.”

He looked up, and then fell to his knees.

“Are you real?” he asked, barely capable of finding his voice.

“Yes,” Spock whispered, having similar difficulty.

Kirk stared up at him. He’d grown older, his hair now silver with age, and line distinguishing his face. “How do I know this time?”

Spock strode to his crumbled bondmate. “This time?”

“I’ve tried to find you, but every time I either couldn’t or it wasn’t you.” He took a shaky breath. “Every time I went to touch you, you disappeared.”

Spock knelt before him and extended his hand. “Touch me now.”

“If you’re not really here—”

“I would not lie to you.”

Kirk swallowed hard and then slowly, very slowly, reached for him, hoping – yet not daring to hope – that this time he would meet something tangible. His fingertips contacted the skin of Spock’s jawline and all tension left his body. “Spock!” He collapsed forward. Spock caught him gently. “It’s you! You’re here! How are you here?” Spock did not respond verbally. He wrapped his arms around his mate, his bondmate he had not seen for over three-quarters of one century, overwhelmed with his own emotions. He held him as Kirk clutched the robes of his chest and soaked them in his tears. It took many minutes for Kirk to calm himself enough to look at him again, this time taking him in. He reached up and cupped his cheek tenderly. “How long have I lost you?”

Spock could barely speak. “Seventy-nine years.”

Kirk licked his lips to stop from sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Spock.” He ran his fingers through his husband’s silvery hair, grieving for the time lost between them. “I’m so sorry I went that day.”

“Jim, no, I do not blame you for the events of that day.”

“I shouldn’t have gone. I left you for seventy-nine years.”

Spock hooked his fingers under his mate’s chin and tilted his head up. “And I have found a way back to you. I found a way home to you.” With that, Spock touched his lips to those he had not tasted for ages.

They remained on the floor until both had calmed enough to breathe properly again. Spock helped Kirk to his feet, but his mate displayed a reluctance to break their contact. He kept their hands joined. “So,” Kirk said, a grin playing at his kiss-swollen lips. “How did you decide to rescue me?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I do have a ship.”

Kirk smiled and stepped closer to his husband. “Permission to come aboard?”

Spock allowed his eyes to smile for his lips. “You need never ask to come home, Jim.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. In memory of Mr. Leonard Nimoy, our Honorary Grandfather, on the first anniversary of his passing. I miss him every day. To those who also miss him and have felt his loss still, I grieve with thee. 
> 
> I borrowed various lines from several of the Star Trek films. I do not own that dialogue. I have also referred heavily to the unfilmed alternate ending scene from Star Trek 2009. All of Kirk!Prime’s dialogue is from the script of that scene. I did not write that dialogue, but am borrowing it. Thank you, again, for reading. ~ RK


End file.
